Awake and Alive
by volleyballgirl122
Summary: Jack is given a second chance at life: he was found encased in an ice-block in the ocean, and now must adjust to the 21st century. What happens when he finds out the girl that's been helping him is Rose's granddaughter? Adoption of ShiningGalaxy's story.
1. The Frozen Man

**Hey, everybody! I'm so happy to be starting another story! I'll update this one more often, I promise! This story has a MUCH different plot than anything I've ever done, so bear with me here! This chapter is pretty short, but it's just the introduction. Enjoy, and don't forget to review! Thanks :)  
**

**NOTE: I would like to thank ShiningGalaxy for the plot. She thought of the story but then lost interest in it, so she let me "adopt" the plot and change it to make it more unique and more my own.**

The reporter fluffed her hair, put on a big fake smile, and faced the camera. "Hello, this is Julie for Channel 9 News, reporting to you live on this day, February 20, 2001, from the scene of something which has never happened before in all of history!

"We are currently on the deck of a boat where oceanologist Brock Lovett and his assistant Elizabeth Calvert, granddaughter of the last _Titanic_ survivor, have been scouring the ocean for any remaining _Titanic_ artifacts. However, yesterday they discovered something much more valuable than any artifact!

"It appears that a _live person_ has actually been preserved inside of a block of ice! The ice froze his cells, allowing him to stop aging, but still be alive! They are pulling this extraordinary creature out of the water right now! This is Julie, from Channel 9 News."

...

25-year-old Elizabeth Calvert sighed and pushed her sunglasses further up onto her nose, her long blond hair whipping around her face in the seabreeze. She was exhausted from staying up all night, working on extracting the frozen man from the depths of the ocean.

"We finally got him, Lizzie," Brock Lovett exclaimed, strolling over to her and wrapping an arm around her waist. "I tell you, this is going to be even bigger than when your grandma told us that _Titanic_ story!"

Lizzie smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Actually, _you_ got him. I just helped."

After her grandmother, Rose, had passed away in 1999, Lizzie had decided that she wanted to do something involving _Titanic_. She contacted Brock, who had gotten her a job as his assistant. Eventually, they started dating, though they were required to act professional when at work. Lizzie was more in love with him than ever.

Cheers erupted from the ship's deck as the ice-block slowly emerged out of the water. It was hard to see the man inside it through all of the ice, but Lizzie could make out semi-ragged clothing, blond hair, and what looked like blue eyes. "Alright, boys, lay him on the deck," she ordered to the workers that were manning the crane carrying the block.

They nodded and did as she asked. Reporters attempted to swarm the ice-block, but they were stopped by a perimeter of security guards. This was, after all, one of the most influential things that had happened in a century.

The block was carefully placed on a cart and wheeled down into one of the ship's lower parts, where it was given to the two main scientists on the ship. "Do you think you can handle this?" Lizzie asked them, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. "It's kind of important..."

"Don't worry," one of them reassured her. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and an intrigued, excited expression on his face. "We just need to extract him from the ice, calibrate the cell quantities, re-trigger the animus-"

Lizzie held up her hand, chuckling. "Whoa, you lost me!"

The other scientist smiled. "Basically, we need to melt him and jump-start his heart."

Lizzie nodded and started walking back up to the main deck. "Alright, sounds good," she called over her shoulder.

She headed up a flight of stairs, lost in thought. Brock had found the frozen man much as he had found the safe containing the nude picture of Rose: they had been scouring the ocean floor when he had noticed something strange sticking out of the sand...something that looked like a human head. He had gotten Lizzie to use the claws to pick up the figure, and they had discovered the frozen man.

So far, no one had given a thought to how he would react if he was truly alive, and it bothered Lizzie. Wouldn't it be just a tiny bit unnerving to wake up in a whole different century, when everyone that you had known was dead, and most of the things that you knew were either gone or completely different? So much had happened over the last century...planes, cars, atomic bombs, television, computers...couldn't even a simple microwave freak you out if you were from 1912?

_He'll just have to adjust, _she thought grimly. _Maybe I could help him._

As she arrived back at the main deck and mechanically begin shooing away reporters, she wondered dimly if her grandmother had known the man.


	2. He's alive!

**Hey, everyone! First, THANK YOU so much for the reviews! Starting a new story always makes me nervous, so I love getting reviews right off the bat! I'm pretty proud of myself for writing this in a day. This story is just so fun to write! Don't forget to review! Thanks :)**

A shrill buzzing noise woke Lizzie up. She opened one eye and stared at the clock: it was one in the morning. Groaning, she propped herself up on one elbow and reached for her phone. " 'Lo?" she asked groggily.

Brock stirred beside her, and she stared at his sleeping face. They had been dating for a year, and moved in together about a month ago. Brock was only 27, and yet he was one of the most accomplished undersea explorers in the world. She chuckled, remembering how he had flirted with her when Rose was telling her story.

A frenzied voice on the other end of the line snapped her roughly back to the present. It was one of their interns, an eager boy named Joshua. "Liz, you and Brock gotta get down here! They finished melting the ice-block guy! He's waking up!"

"What?" Lizzie shrieked. "But it's only been a few hours since we got him! They said it would take a couple days at least!"

"Well, I guess they worked their asses off, 'cause he's stirring! You and Brock are the head directors on this, and nobody knows what to do! Add that to the fact that reporters are swarming the building, and we're a mess down here!"

Lizzie, now wide-awake, pulled on a sweatshirt and sweatpants and stuffed her hair into a messy bun. Brock sat up groggily and pulled a light switch, illuminating the small but cozy bedroom. "Wuzzgoinon?" he mumbled.

"We have to get down to the station," Lizzie explained, giggling and wrenching away from him as he wrapped his arms around her waist and attempted to pull her back towards the bed. "No, really, we have to! They unfroze the man in the ice!"

Brock's eyes widened, and he was heading towards the door the next second, despite the fact that he was still in slippers. "C'mon, let's go!" he shouted.

The car ride was nearly silent, with Brock driving at almost twice the speed limit. When they were almost there, Brock turned to her, shadows casting across his face, and said seriously, "I want you to talk to him, Lizzie. Someone needs to explain to him where he is and what happened, and you're the best person for the job."

Lizzie started to protest-surely _she_ wasn't the best one-but then nodded. If Brock wanted her to, then she would. It was as plain as that.

Finally, they got into the station. Joshua had been right: reporters were everywhere. They quickly got out of the car, shielding their faces from the camera with their sleeves. People bumped into them as they ran up the steps and, finally, into the building.

It was nearly as chaotic inside as well. People ran to and fro, shouting out numbers, recording data, some just darting aimlessly around. Joshua ran up to them. "Oh, thank God you two are here!" His hair was sticking up in all directions and the first two buttons of his shirt had come undone. "The guy's _really_ confused. He keeps thinking he's in the ship that rescued the _Titanic_ survivors, and we're all on our way to New York. We weren't sure what to tell him, so we just put him in a room with a couple couches and some one-way glass."

Lizzie stared at Josh incredulously. "He's not an animal, Josh! You can't just lock him up when you don't feel like dealing with him!" She rolled her eyes and Josh's confused expression. "Did you manage to get _any_ information from him?"

Josh scrambled through his notes, eager to prove that he had done something right for once. "We got his name," he said finally, looking at them hopefully. "It's Jack Dawson. And he kept asking for someone named Rose. Sort of rings a bell, doesn't it?"

Lizzie felt her throat close up. She turned to stare at Brock and saw the shock and wonder is her eyes reflected back in his. "Let me talk to him, _now_," she said forcefully to Joshua, who nodded, stumbled backwards, then turned and lead her to Jack's room.

Jack's POV

_What the hell is going on?_ That was my only thought.

I had woken up on an uncomfortable metal table. Bright lights were flashing everywhere-I didn't even know lights could _be_ that bright. I had looked around to see dozens of people staring at me. They looked sort of...alarmed.

"Why are you all here?" I asked them. They had all jumped about a foot in the air at the sound of my voice. "Aren't there other patients to take care of as well?" They didn't respond, so I continued slightly uncomfortably. "I mean, a ton of people have to have hypothermia. We were in the water for nearly an hour! By the way, how long have I been out? And how close to New York are we?"

Again, they had just gaped at me idiotically. Finally, a frenzied-looking man about my age had spoke up. "Um, what's your name?"

"Jack Dawson," I answered. He wrote my name down, probably on the list of survivors. "Hey!" I suddenly shouted. They all stared at me in alarm. "Is she alive?"

They looked at each other nervously. "Uh...why don't you come with me?" the man finally suggested. He had taken me gently by the arm and led me down a hallway and into a small room with plush couches and some sort of wide box. "Just stay here for a minute, please," he had said, then backed out of the room.

"Where the hell am I?" I shouted into thin air. "And where's Rose?"

I paced the room for a few minutes. Maybe it was just me, but this didn't seem like the ship that had rescued people from the _Titanic_. I didn't recognize anything here-it was as though I had jumped into a parallel universe or something. Slowly, I walked over to the wide box and experimentally pushed a button on it. "Holy shit!" I yelled, jumping backwards. People were _inside_ the box! It looked as though they were outside, just going about their usual business.

_What have you gotten yourself into, Jack?_ I silently asked myself.

Suddenly, the door opened. A pretty woman (who looked vaguely familiar) about two or three years older than me stepped inside. She was dressed in loose pants and a long-sleeved shirt. I had never seen a woman dress like that before-they only wore dresses.

"Hi, Jack," the woman said, smiling tentatively. "My name is Elizabeth, but you can call me Lizzie."

"Where am I?" I asked immediately. "What happened to the rest of the survivors? Where's Rose? And what is _that?_" I pointed to the box with people inside of it.

Lizzie looked as if she was struggling for words. Finally, she motioned for me to sit down. I sat as far away from her as possible, glaring suspiciously. "That's called a television," she said finally. "Now I need you to listen closely, Jack. This might be hard for you to grasp, but I want you to hear me out. Okay?" She waited until I nodded.

"When the _Titanic_ sank, you were encased in a block of ice. It froze your cells, allowing you to stay alive but not age. You were just found a few days ago. It's now the year 2001, and...Jack?"

My vision was becoming cloudy. I nearly fell over. _That can't be possible,_ I told myself, even though I knew that it made sense. "What...what happened to Rose?" I dimly heard myself say.

Lizzie's face showed nothing but sympathy, which I had always hated. "Rose died two years ago at the age of 103," she whispered. "I'm her great-granddaughter."

I felt myself slide off of the couch, and everything went black.


	3. Forever in my heart

**Hey, everyone! Sorry that I haven't updated in a few days, but I haven't had too much time. Also, today is the last day of my Spring Break, so I probably will only update about once or twice a week after this. Anyway, THANK YOU SO MUCH for the reviews! I can't believe I've gotten this many already! I love all you guys! I worked pretty hard on this chapter, so I hope you like it. Don't forget to review! Thanks, and enjoy :)**

Lizzie stared down at Jack's sleeping face. They had been unsure of where to put him when he passed out, so they laid him on an examination table. Now doctors were doing tests to see what nutrients he needed, how low his blood sugar was, etc.

"Hey." Brock came and stood next to her.

"Hey," she responded without looking up.

She felt his arm snake around her waist. "Listen," he continued. "This guy-Jack-is going to have a hard time getting used to things in this time period. I was thinking that you could help him out, maybe?"

Lizzie smirked. "So you want me to babysit him?"

"Well, I guess you could call it that," Brock said, chuckling. "Just help him out a little, y'know? He's going to be pretty famous, after all, and he's not gonna know how to deal with that, either. And while you're at it, get any information about the past from him as well. This is a first-hand account of what life was like back in 1912, because he remembers it as though it was yesterday."

Lizzie nodded and Brock gave her a grateful kiss on the cheek. As he headed outside to talk to some reporters, however, she felt a tiny twinge of annoyance. He was treating this just as he had treated the search for the Heart of the Ocean necklace: it was just a news story, a chance for him to get money and attention. The people's feelings and emotions didn't matter at all.

Suddenly, she saw Jack's fingers twitch. "Jack?" she asked softly.

He moaned, then reached out and grabbed her hand. Startled, she yanked it away from him, and his eyes flew open. "Gah!" he yelled.

"Sorry to startle you," she said quickly. "Is there anything I can get you?"

He looked around at the doctors, then at the IV drip plugged into his arm. Slowly, he seemed to wilt. "So...it wasn't a dream?" he whispered. She shook her head. "Sorry for grabbing your hand," he muttered. "I just...I thought you were Rose. Your voices sound exactly the same."

Lizzie felt a rush of sympathy. His love was dead, along with everyone else he had ever known. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Jack scoffed and unplugged the IV from his arm, ignoring the doctors protests. "Save your sympathy. I don't need it," he mumbled, then walked out of the room. His head was down, but Lizzie had seen how wet his eyes were.

She watched as Jack walked outside and was immediately ambushed by flocks of reporters. "Jack! Jack, can we ask you a few questions?"

"Uh, I guess," he replied unsteadily.

"How do you like living in the 21st century?"

"Well, I haven't really experienced it yet-"

"Do you remember anything after sinking under the water?"

"Uh, no, not really-"

"Are you _the_ Jack Dawson? The one that was Rose Dewitt Bukater's lover?"

Jack stopped and stared at the reporter that had asked that. "Wait, _what?_"

Lizzie winced. After Rose had told her story in 1997, the tape that Brock had recorded it on had been broadcast all over radios and television. People all over cried for the previously unknown Jack Dawson. Television shows had featured the story, and a few books had even been written about it. Lizzie could tell that her great-grandmother hated the publicity-it felt as though Jack's heroic life was now just some twisted news story. Lizzie had privately agreed, but Brock had said that publicity would be better.

Now Jack had to deal with his entire life's story having already been broadcast to the world.

Jack's POV

"Wait, _what?_" I asked, my brow creasing. How could they know that Rose and I were in love?

"A woman named Rose Calvert told the world about losing a love named Jack Dawson on _Titanic_, back when her name was still Rose Dewitt Bukater," the reporter explained eagerly, speaking into a black thing with a round knob at the end that magnified her voice.

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Everyone knew exactly who I was and what my life had been like. I felt sort of..._violated._ I was opening my mouth to reply when Rose's great-granddaughter Lizzie rushed up.

"Alright, boys, that's enough chitchat with Mr. Dawson for today," she told them sternly. I jumped slightly, remembering how Rose had called me Mr. Dawson for the first few days that we knew each other. "He's just woken up nearly a hundred years into the future, and I think that's enough excitement for one day, don't you?"

The reporters grumbled as she shooed them away. She was so stubborn and firm-just like Rose had been. I received yet another shock when she turned to face me: her eyes were exactly the same color of blueish-green that Rose's had been.

"Is there anything I can get you, Jack?" she asked gently, putting her hand on my arm. "Anything that you want to do?"

I realized that there _was_ something that I needed to see. "Yeah," I said, my voice cracking. "Take me to Rose's grave."

...

Lizzie led me into the graveyard. The grass was fresh, the trees were blossoming, and most of the gravestones were polished. I sighed; it didn't seem like such a depressing place should be so pretty.

We had ridden to the graveyard in something called a _car_-an incredible machine that transported you from place to place. You just had to turn it on and steer. The car's windows rolled up and down with just the push of a button, and you could play something called a radio that made voices come out of a box in the car!

Even more overwhelming, though, was the city. In 1912, the tallest building in New York City had been about 20 stories tall. Now, the buildings looked at least a hundred stories tall, seeming to stretch up into the sky for miles. New York was a lot larger, too: what had previously been forest was now just more gray buildings. From what Lizzie told me, it didn't seem as though I would be able to make a living by selling art for 10 cents anymore.

We walked towards the back of the graveyard, where the nicest graves were. "There is it," Lizzie told me in a quiet, sad voice. She pointed to one standing alone under a willow tree. I sank down in front of it, the words blurring before my eyes.

_Rose Dawson Calvert, 1895-1999. Treasured friend, love, and family member. _Beneath that, at the very bottom of the gravestone, was a single quote: _forever in my heart._

"She told me in the early '90s that she wanted that quote on her grave when she died," Lizzie whispered, pointing to it. "After she told the story of her life on _Titanic_, I realized that it was probably about you."

I swallowed loudly, willing the burning in my eyes to go away. For those few sweet hours on _Titanic_, I had actually believed that Rose and I would have a life together. We could go to Santa Monica, maybe even start a family. "She used my last name?" I asked in wonder, touching the _D_ in Dawson. Lizzie nodded.

"She fulfilled her promise to you," she said quietly. "She survived that night, and she had children, and she died as an old lady, warm in her bed."

"She remarried a guy named Calvert?" I asked, a catch in my voice. I was grateful that she had moved on with her life and made good on her promise, but I couldn't pretend that it didn't sting a little to see her with another man's last name.

Lizzie nodded, then added as an afterthought, "But I don't think she ever loved him as much as she loved you."

We started to walk back to the car. I didn't know where I was going to go, or what I was going to do with my life here in the 21st century, but I did know that Rose would be forever in my heart, too.


	4. Why is fun always complicated?

**Hey, everyone! I'm sorry for not updating in a week, but with school and volleyball, I really don't have time except for on the weekends. I'm sorry :( Anyway, thanks for the reviews, as well as for the 8 people that added this to their Favorite Stories list, and the 13 people that added this to their Story Alert list! I was a tiny bit sad that I only got three reviews for the last chapter, though. I worked extra hard on this chapter, so please review! I won't bite, I promise :) Enjoy!**

Lizzie yawned, stretched, and looked at the clock: it was 7:02 in the morning. After glancing over at Brock, who was still fast asleep, she got up, pulled on a robe, and walked down the hall to the kitchen. She could hear the television blaring from the living room. _Did I leave it on last night?_ she wondered.

She got to the doorway between the kitchen and living room and grinned. Jack was animatedly flipping the channels up and down, playing with the volume, and staring at the people on the screen. They had invited Jack to stay with them for a while, at least until he found a job or decided what he wanted to do with his new life.

"Jack?" Lizzie broke him out of his stupor.

He jumped, then grinned sheepishly. "Sorry...I'm just not used to any of this."

She chuckled and nodded. "I know. Now c'mere, I'll show you how to make breakfast."

She demonstrated how to use the microwave, and had him heat up a waffle while she blended a smoothie, laughing when he jumped at the blender's noise. They sat down at the round kitchen table and ate breakfast while Jack asked numerous questions about the kitchen devices. "So...you just type in a number, and the microwave heats it up for that long?" Jack asked, completely astounded.

Lizzie nodded. "And believe me, that's the least astonishing thing you'll see today," she assured him. She was taking the day off to show him around and teach him what he had missed. "Now go get dressed. I'm taking you to Times Square."

They arrived at Times Square around nine. Lizzie let Jack stand for a few minutes after they got out of the car and take it all in. She tried to see it from his point of view: the skyscrapers, all the huge moving screens, the thousands of people. "This is crazy," he finally whispered.

Lizzie watched his eyes follow a couple of teenage girls that went by. They wore short shorts, off-the-shoulder shirts that showed quite a bit of cleavage, and ballet flats. Their faces had gobs of makeup, and their brown hair was straightened and had buttery blonde highlights. "I bet you've never seen anyone dress like that, have you?" she asked, grinning.

Jack shook his head, speechless. "People are _allowed_ to show that much?" he asked incredulously, a crease between his eyebrows.

Lizzie doubled over laughing at his dumbfounded expression. "C'mon," she finally managed to get out, still chuckling. "Let's go have some fun."

They went shopping at Bloomingdales, rode the Ferris Wheel at the Toys R Us, got ice cream and pretzels from numerous street vendors, and rode the Ellis Island Ferry past the Statue of Liberty.

Lizzie loved seeing Jack so excited and alive. He was so fun, so caring and free. Lizzie could see how her great-grandmother had fallen in love with him. Lizzie hoped that they would stay good friends, and that he would become good friends with Brock, too.

They got back to their apartment around 5 o'clock, still flushed from the day's excitement. Brock was still at work. "I haven't had that much fun in a long time," Lizzie said gleefully as they unlocked the door. "But now it's time to get down to work, mister." Her tone was mockingly scolding. "I'm gonna teach you everything that's happened in the 89 years that you've so unfortunately missed, even if it takes all night!"

Jack's POV

I had had such a good day today with Lizzie. Aside from the time that I spent with Rose, it was pretty much the best day that I could remember. Lizzie reminded me so much of her: she had a wild, fun spirit and disregarded all the rules. We had even had a spitting contest off of the Ellis Island Ferry, just like Rose and I had on _Titanic_.

When we got back to her apartment, though, the history lesson began. She told me about crazy things: blacks and whites getting equal rights, "nuclear" bombs that had the ability to completely wipe out entire cities at a time, people _flying_ to other countries on airplanes in mere hours. I remembered the first successful flight across the country in 1911...it had taken 84 days. The most interesting thing that she had said was about men actually landing on the moon. On the _moon! _I didn't believe her, so she had me look it up on this genius thing called a computer.

As Lizzie started telling me about the 1970s and a type of music called disco, however, I found myself focusing less on what she was saying and more on the way she talked animatedly with her hands, how her pink lips formed words, the way her green eyes would mischievously sparkle whenever she found something funny. "Can I draw you?" I blurted out.

She stopped in the middle of a sentence about relations with the Middle East. "What?"

I flushed. "Well, I lost all my drawings when the _Titanic_ sank, and I just figured that I need to start compiling some more." _Plus you're the perfect person to draw, because I feel like I've drawn you before, when I drew Rose,_ I added in my head.

Lizzie shrugged. "Yeah, sure. What do you want me to wear?"

"What you're in is fine," I told her. She found me some paper, then asked me how she should pose. I instructed her to sit on the kitchen table with her arms propping her up, her head slightly cocked to one side, and her legs crossed and dangling over the edge, then started to draw.

My pencil flew across the paper, capturing the curls in her hair that were exactly the same as Rose's, her familiar oval face, her long legs and slender torso. When I was done, I signed it in the exact same spot that the drawing of Rose had been signed, nearly a century before.

Lizzie came and looked at it over my shoulder. "Oh, Jack, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed. Checking the time, she sighed. "I should probably start making dinner. Brock will be home soon." She thanked me again, gave me a peck on the cheek and ruffled my messy blond hair, then disappeared into the kitchen.

I waited until she was out of sight, then buried my head in my hands. The kiss on the cheek had clearly been friendly, but it had seemed like...something more. I groaned. _Why does life have to be so confusing?_ I slowly wrote the date on the picture (February 22, 2001), then laid it down gently and went to help Lizzie make dinner.


	5. A spark of jealousy

**Hey, everyone! I can't say how sorry I am for not updating for so long! I've just been really busy with volleyball, friends, volunteer work, and end-of-year school stuff! Anyway, I promise I'll try to update more, especially since school is ending in a few weeks.**

**Also, I've been having some serious writer's block with this story. It's such a hard story to write. I'm totally open to suggestions! Anyway, be sure to REVIEW! I worked really hard on this chapter. Thanks, and enjoy :) **

Brock Lovett slowly made his way up the steps to their downtown Manhattan apartment, lost in thought.

The frozen man was bringing a ton of publicity to his work, ten times more than when Lizzie's grandma had told her story. People wanted to get a first-hand account of life in 1912, as well as meet the famed Jack Dawson, the boy of every girl's dreams. Brock wondered if Lizzie had gotten any juicy stories from him yet.

He quickly checked his phone: earlier he had proposed the idea that Jack get interviewed by _People, _tell what it was like in 1912, what had changed, and what his version of events on _Titanic _and with Rose were. The magazine would then set up a contest for someone to meet him and spend the day with him.

Brock felt sorry for Jack, of course. After all, he was basically living in some sci-fi nightmare. However, wouldn't Jack appreciate it if he was rich and famous in said nightmare?

He was glad that Lizzie was bonding with Jack. Hopefully, she would remind him of Rose and therefore get more information out of him than anyone else would. _God, I love that girl,_ he thought to himself.

He entered their cozy two-bedroom apartment. "Liz, I'm-" The words died on his lips as he saw what lay on the living room coffee table.

He slowly walked over to it. It was a drawing of Lizzie, staring entrancingly out of the picture, her head cocked and lips slightly parted. The drawing, done in charcoal pencil, was all soft lines and shading. There was only one person that could have done this. Sure enough, when Brock looked in the bottom-right corner, there was the signature. JD, February 22 2001.

He forced himself to swallow, the blood pounding in his ears. It wasn't like it meant anything. Rose herself had told them that Jack said he drew random people on the streets all the time.

The only thing was that he couldn't help but notice the similarities between this drawing and the one of Rose. Jack had drawn a few people from the apartment window since he had been unfrozen, but never like this. On both drawings, he had done specific details, such as the precision of the facial features, his focus on their...curves, the way he made them both so extraordinarily beautiful.

Brock tenderly put down the drawing as if afraid it would burn him. _Lizzie loves me,_ he reassured himself. _Of course there's nothing going on between her and Jack. He's from a different _century, _for crying out loud! _He forced a smile on his face and walked into the kitchen.

Lizzie and Jack were cheerfully cooking soup. Jack was showing off his juggling abilities with the onions, while Lizzie laughed at the punchline of some joke he had just told her as she washed the tomatoes. "Pass me that knife, will you?" she asked, still giggling. As Jack put down the onions and gave her the knife, their fingers touched.

Brock leapt forward and cleared his throat, hoping his face wasn't flushed. Jack jumped slightly, as if they had been caught doing something wrong, but Lizzie turned to him with a big smile on her face. "Hey, Brock! How was your day?"

"Fine," he answered, pulling her in for a long kiss. "How was yours and, uh, Jack's?"

Lizzie eagerly started babbling about how much _fun_ they had had, how they had gone _everywhere_, how Jack had drawn her and he was just the most _amazing_ artist. Perhaps it was Brock's imagination, but Jack seemed to be slightly uncomfortable the whole time, never quite meeting his eyes.

Hours later, they climbed into bed. "So what did you do today?" Lizzie asked Brock as she curled up close to him.

Brock suddenly realized that he had forgotten all about the _People_ article. "You'll never guess what I got for Jack!" he said, grinning. "I think I've got him an interview with a magazine! He'll talk all about what life was like compared to now, and his own time with Rose and on _Titanic_! The public'll eat it up! Oh, and here's the best part: people will bid to spend the day with him and show him around! It'll be fun, and we'll all make some money!"

He stopped talking, suddenly aware that Lizzie had become pale and was looking at him with dismay and disgust. She propped herself up on one elbow. "Brock Lovett, do you not realize how _hard_ this must be for him? He's a person, not some object that you can toss around and lend to whoever you want! The last thing that he wants is to be some moneymaking, heartbreaking publicity stunt!"

Brock stared at her. "C'mon, Lizzie, you know it's not like that! It's best for _him_, too! He gets to meet people, get fans, and make money! It's a win-win situation!"

Lizzie's normally cheery face darkened. "A win-win for you, maybe," she hissed. "But not for _him_, Brock. And he's what matters right now." She stood up and started to throw on a robe. "I think I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

Brock sprang out of bed, furious. "Is there something going on between you and him?" he asked dangerously.

Lizzie gaped at him incredulously, eyes narrowed to slits, too shocked to pull on the other half of her robe. "Are you KIDDING me? He was in love with my _great-grandmother! _Who the hell do you think I am? He would _never_ have feelings for me, and I only care about you, anyway! And I thought you knew that!"

Brock watched openmouthed as she stomped out of the room, slamming the door jarringly behind her.

Jack's POV

I listened to the screaming coming from the other room, trying to ignore the urge to shield Lizzy from Brock's wrath.

I honestly had _no_ idea what had happened earlier. I had definitely felt something while I was drawing her, and that kiss on the cheek just made everything more confusing. I was pretty sure that she was head over heels for Brock, but I couldn't help it.

Sighing, I rolled out of bed and trudged over to the tiny balcony attached to my room. I silently slid it open, stepped outside, and closed the door behind me, breathing in the New York City air. All the lights twinkled below me, millions more then what had been there during what seemed like a week ago...but was actually 89 years in the past.

I still couldn't process everything that had changed. What was I going to do with my new life that I knew so little of? I gazed up at the stars, the very same ones that I had stared at the night I stopped Rose from jumping off of _Titanic_.

Lizzie reminded me so much of her: her bravery, her humor, her stubbornness, her laugh, her creamy skin, the sparkle in her eyes...

I squeezed my own eyes shut. I really didn't know if this was disgusting or not. I mean, I was in love with her great-grandmother...but since I was technically still Lizzie's age both physically and mentally, did it really make a difference?

But I didn't want to break a happy couple up. I thought of how she had glowed with joy when he walked into the room, how protective he had been at dinner and how uncomfortable his stare had made me. It was almost as if he could read my mind.

Brock and Lizzie were nearly perfect for each other. He was nothing like Cal. _He deserves Lizzie, and she deserves him, whether I like it or not. Lizzie probably has no feelings for me whatsoever, and I should just stop thinking about this. Even though Rose and I were soul mates, and she's Rose's great-granddaughter..._

I groaned and buried my head in my hands. Why did everything in the 21st century have to be so damn complicated?


	6. Over the Edge

**Wow, it's been a really long time since I updated. I had some huge volleyball tournaments and of course school ending, and since then I've basically just been sleeping, swimming, and hanging out with friends, just normal summer stuff. Don't worry though, I promise I'll update more often! And this time I'll actually keep my promise! :) I hope this chapter makes up for my long absence. Enjoy, and REVIEW! Thanks :)**

Lizzie slammed her pillow onto the couch and laid down, still fuming. _How could Brock be so stupid?_ She had always known that he was a little money-obsessed, but seriously, a _contest_ to spend the day with Jack? He wasn't some toy that Brock could throw around and rent out to people!

And how dare he suggest that there was something going on between her and Jack! Jack was in love with Rose, and the thought that he could transfer that love to her great-granddaughter of all people was a little perverse. This century was all new to Jack, and it was more than likely that he would _never_ fall in love again, since everyone was so different from what he was used to. Couldn't Brock try a little tenderness for once?

Sure, Jack was a great guy. He was fun, happy, and a free spirit. Even though Brock was more work- and money-obsessed and less lighthearted than Jack, he was still the right guy for her. She was happy with Brock. Really, she was.

Wasn't she?

Brock's POV

The alarm clock blared loudly in Brock's ears. He groaned, rolling over and slamming it until it shut off. He reached through the tangle of covers, feeling for Lizzie, but all his fingers grasped was empty sheets.

Suddenly, the events of the past night rushed back to him, and his eyes flew open. "Lizzie?" he called, slowly getting out of bed. "Sorry about last night, babe! Let's just forget about it, alright?" The only answer he got was the echo of his own voice, sounding lonely in the vast hallway.

Brock walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, then froze as he brought it to his lips. He checked the calendar. Yes, it was a Friday. And yet the frying pan was empty, resting in a cabinet. Lizzie _always_ made pancakes on Fridays. When they moved in together, she told him that she had done it since she was a little girl, and she wanted to share the tradition with him.

Something was very, very wrong.

"Liz?" he called out tentatively. "Is everything alright?"

A figure emerged around the corner. Brock's heart leaped, thinking it was Lizzie, but it was just Jack. Brock shifted uncomfortably, thinking of the picture that Jack had drawn of Lizzie and how their fight had been about him.

"Hey, Brock," Jack said brightly, breaking the awkward silence.

"Do you know where Lizzie is, Jack?" Brock asked.

Jack poured himself some coffee, took a sip, then spit it out into the sink. "Man, I was hoping that they had done something to make coffee taste better since 1912. Never did like it much." Brock gave him an annoyed glare. "Oh, Lizzie, right! Yeah, she told me to tell you that she already left for work."

Brock's jaw dropped. Lizzie and him had ridden to work together every day since they started dating. They worked at the same place, for crying out loud! Lizzie had always insisted to ride together, even when they were doing something different afterwards. "We can drop the other one off if we're going to different places," Lizzie had told him. "Driving together conserves gas and besides, it's just easier and nicer."

First the pancakes, now this. Lizzie was more than just pissed, and Brock didn't know how long it would take for her to forgive him, or if she even would at all. He stared into Jack's annoyingly bright blue eyes and felt his blood start to boil. This guy was the reason that his perfect relationship was going down the drain. He didn't belong here, and yet he had just waltzed right in and messed up his life.

"Listen up, pal," Brock hissed, poking a finger into Jack's chest. "You don't belong here. You don't know anything about this century or anyone in it. You were completely in love with Rose, who is my girlfriend's _great-grandmother. _So I don't know who you think you are, but you can't have Lizzie. She's mine! Your little crush on her-and yes, it's obvious-is disgusting and perverse. You loved her great-grandmom! So just stay away from her! Go back to where you belong, Jack. Get a job, get an apartment, and get a girlfriend that's _available._ I don't want to see you with Lizzie again!"

Brock's voice had risen to a shout, and he had gotten closer to Jack so that Jack's back was pressed up against the kitchen counter. There was a ringing silence that followed. Somehow, it was worse than if Jack had shouted back at him.

Cheeks burning, he grabbed his briefcase and quickly walked out of the apartment. Before the door slammed shut behind him, he heard Jack say something that would bother him for the rest of the day. "She deserves better than you," Jack whispered.

Maybe she did.

Jack's POV

Jack angrily slammed his fist on the counter. He hadn't been this furious at someone since Lovejoy locked him to a pole below the decks of the _Titanic_ and left him to die.

All this time, he had thought that Brock was a great guy. Maybe he cared a bit too much about fame and fortune, but he still seemed caring and kind. But in reality, he was nearly as bad as Cal.

How could Brock threaten him? He hadn't _done_ anything except nearly freeze to death! But Jack didn't have to worry about himself. He had to worry about Lizzie.

Lizzie deserved better. She was exactly like Rose: basically the perfect woman. If Brock lost his temper on Jack that easily, who was to say that he wouldn't do the exact same thing to Lizzie?

Brock had said that his feelings for Lizzie were obvious. If that was true, then Lizzie certainly hadn't done anything to dispel them. Maybe she cared for him too. Brock might see it as disgusting and perverse, but he was technically still the exact same age as her both physically and mentally. They were just from different places.

One thing was for sure though. Just as Jack had saved Rose from Cal, he needed to save Lizzie from Brock. Before that fire inside of her that he loved burnt out.

**So Lizzie's got some choices, huh? I'm still deciding what direction to go in from this, and you guys can help me! I'm putting up a poll on my profile for if Lizzie should go with Brock or Jack. Vote please! :) **


	7. A Familiar Confession

**Hey, guys! I'm proud of myself for updating in a couple days :) Since it's summer, I will be updating more often! This is a pretty important chapter, so don't forget to review! And keep voting on the poll about whether Lizzie should be with Jack or Brock. I've only gotten a couple votes, so nothing is decided yet, and after this chapter, I can't really update until it is! The poll is at the top of my profile. Thanks guys :)**

Lizzie parked her car in the parking lot, turned off the old rock CD that she was listening to, and slammed the door to her car.

She was still angry at Brock for his apathy for Jack and his accusations about her and Jack's relationship. However, she was starting to think that she might have overreacted just the tiniest bit.

This morning, she had been too busy wrestling with emotions to carry out her pancake tradition, and had taken her own car to work to avoid an awkward drive with Brock. It was the first time that she had _ever_ skipped either of those, and she knew that Brock must think that their relationship was in serious jeopardy.

Lizzie knew that she should find Brock and talk things out, but she just didn't want to see his face at the moment. She felt as though the spark that had fueled the fire in their relationship was slowly dwindling. Meanwhile, a certain blue-eyed boy had wormed his way into her heart.

She didn't know if what she felt was brotherly love for Jack...or something else. But either way, he was still from the past and she was still in a mostly happy relationship. Besides, since he was with her great-grandmother, it would be basically incest...right?

She sighed and shook her head. Lizzie had never liked the drama that came with boys. Whenever she encountered a problem, her latest tactic had been to absorb herself with her work.

"Morning, Joshua," she said to her over-eager intern as she walked to her work station.

"Oh, hey, Liz!" Josh called. "So I heard about the contest that _People_ is setting up with Jack-"

Lizzie whirled around. "There isn't going to be a contest involving Jack, Josh," she interrupted testily. "Where did you hear that?"

His face turned pink. "Oh, sorry, I just thought-Brock mentioned..."

"Well, Brock's wrong!" she huffed. "He can do the interview with _People_, but no contest is necessary. God, as if he would want people to bid on him!" She turned on her heel. "I'll be cleaning and analyzing some _Titanic_ artifacts in the lab if you need me. If anyone asks, even Brock, tell them not to disturb me."

Josh nodded and scurried off to pore over charts of the ocean that tracked tremors and tidal movements with several other employees.

Lizzie entered the lab. Something about the quiet whiteness of it had always calmed her down a little. She was the only one in there at the time, so she sat down and started carefully washing the dirt off of a pair of boots and trying to determine whether they were a man or a woman's.

Lizzie and Brock were part of a team of oceanologists. They explored everything involving the ocean. They had focused mainly on _Titanic_ since her grandmother's story had brought the shipwreck back into the spotlight. Also, the "frozen man" had definitely increased the amount of time that they spent focusing on _Titanic_.

Soon, though, they would stop working mainly with _Titanic_ and go research some different part of the ocean: tracking unusual earthquakes, taking samples of ocean life, or finding sunken treasure down in the Caribbean (which Brock was most known for). They were oceanologists, and it was their job to explore and learn about every branch of the ocean, and find artifacts along the way.

Lizzie, however, didn't want to move on from _Titanic_. She had no interest in the rest of the ocean, and knew deep in her heart that once the time came for the team to go to a different area, she would quit her job. Perhaps she would become a _Titanic_ specialist, or write a book based on her grandmother's experiences. People would certainly love to hear it all from her point of view, after all.

The trouble was, she didn't know what that meant for her and Brock. If they no longer worked together, what would they have in common? When would they have time for each other?

After what seemed like an infinite amount of time, something fell off of a desk across the room, jolting Lizzie from her thoughts. She stood up, stretched, ran a hand through her curly blond hair, and decided to go get some lunch.

As she walked towards the lab exit she heard voices coming from just outside the door. She came to a halt when she heard her own name included in the conversation.

"-need to talk to Lizzie for just a second," a throaty man's voice said. It was Jack.

"Sorry, buddy, she said that no one should disturb her," Joshua's voice answered.

Jack scoffed impatiently. "C'mon, just let me in for one minute alright?"

It sounded as though a fight was brewing before Lizzie stepped out of the doorway. "It's alright, Josh, he can talk to me." Josh nodded and walked away.

Lizzie beckoned to Jack and started walking in the direction of the lunch room. "C'mon, I'm starving. Let's get something to eat, alright?" To her surprise, Jack caught hold of her arm.

"Could we, ya know, talk somewhere more...private?" he asked. Lizzie noticed that his cheeks were flushed and his eyes looked nervous but determined.

She raised an eyebrow but nodded, heading back into the lab. "Alright," she said once the door had shut. "What to you need?"

He paced back and forth, then turned to her. "Look, Lizzie, I know this is a little strange. I was in love with your great-grandmother, and I'm from nearly a hundred years ago. But I'm still the exact same age as you in every other way. I didn't age a day physically or mentally from the time _Titanic_ sank to the time that I was unfrozen. And I know you're dating Brock, but I just can't help it, alright?"

Lizzie's heart began to thump. "What are you saying?"

He took a deep breath. "I'm saying that I'm in love with you. You're just like Rose. You're sweet, funny, beautiful, and you both have that fire about you that no one can control. And-and before today, I didn't want to meddle in your relationship because you and Brock seemed so happy together, but after you left this morning...well, he kicked me out and told me to stay away from you, like you were his property. You deserve better, Lizzie."

Her eyes were as wide as saucers. She couldn't _believe_ that he had just said all of that. He was in _love_ with her? How could it ever work out?

And she also couldn't believe that Brock would say such things. She had always known he was a little shallow, but she never thought he was like Cal Hockley. Maybe everything she had known about him was wrong.

Jack took a tentative step towards her. "Look, I know what you're thinking. But Rose and I were from different classes, and we pushed through that. So who's to say that we can't overcome being from different times?" He touched her cheek, light as a feather.

Lizzie's head was reeling. She couldn't think through all of this right now, she just couldn't. "I need some air," she muttered, pushing past him.  
Her last glimpse of Jack was him slumped against the wall, exactly as he had when Rose rejected him on _Titanic_.


	8. To have loved and lost

**Hi guys! Sorry that I haven't updated in a couple weeks. I've been busy hanging with friends, relaxing, and planning several other stories to come! As always, thanks for the reviews, favorites, and author alerts! Special thanks to those who voted on my poll, even though I don't know who you are, as it's all anonymous! I'll keep the poll open for a few more days, but we have a pretty clear winner. After this chapter, I'll either go in one direction or the other, depending on the poll results. Anyway, don't forget to REVIEW! Thanks, and enjoy! :)**

As soon as he slammed the apartment door shut, Brock instantly felt terrible. Jack's words rang in his ears. He was right: Lizzie _did_ deserve better than Brock.

He stormed his way down to the parking garage and got into his own car. Since he and Lizzie had moved in together, he had barely used this car. No one really drove anywhere in New York City except to work, and they always used Lizzie's car for that. Brock wouldn't be surprised if the gas had all evaporated from the tank.

His car started up, sounding a little rusty, but working nonetheless. He shifted it into gear, and the tires squealed as he flew out of the parking lot.

Manhattan was packed with its usual overflow of traffic. Brock hated traffic; it always made him feel trapped and claustrophobic, like sardines in a can. He made an executive decision to take a short detour before work.

Half an hour later, he was driving down some dirt lane, booking it back to the city. He had gotten past the city limits, rolled the windows down, and driven through the countryside, trying to untangle his thoughts.

Screaming at Jack like that had been completely unnecessary. There was absolutely no proof that Jack and Lizzie had anything between them, and even if Jack had feelings for Lizzie, he knew that Lizzie loved Brock.

Lizzie was the most important thing in the world to him, and he would never forgive himself if he messed that up because of jealousy.

Although Brock still thought that the interview and contest with Jack was a good idea (for God's sake, he was basically a medical miracle), he would let it go if Lizzie wanted him to. He would also apologize to Jack and invite him to move back in, even though the thought made him feel slightly ill. Perhaps, to further appease her, he might even agree to get a little Pomeranian for the apartment, like her great-grandmother used to own, as an "I'm sorry" present.

Feeling resolved and much more cheerful, he set off back to work.

"Morning, Josh!" he greeted his intern happily. Josh looked pleasantly surprised at his merry tone, eagerly showing him some sketches of the ocean floor's craters that he had made.

"Great work, Josh," Brock told him, only half listening. He gazed around the office but didn't see Lizzie's signature mop of wavy blond hair. "Hey, do you know where Liz is?"

Josh nodded. "Yep, she's in there with the frozen guy. Hey, she said something about not wanting him to do the interview. What's up her butt, right?" He snickered, but quickly sobered at the disapproving look on Brock's face.

"Josh, if Lizzie vetoed the interview, then there's not going to be an interview. Got it?" he told Josh severely. "Now excuse me, I need to go see her."

He walked toward the lab. It was good that Lizzie was with Jack, as he could apologize to them together. _Look, I don't know what I was thinking earlier. I'm sorry for anything offensive that I said. You were right, and I was wrong,_ he recited in his head.

As he got closer, he heard Jack's throaty voice. Brock cleared his throat, but as he was preparing to step around the corner, he caught some of what Jack was saying. "-know you're dating Brock, but I just can't help it alright?"

Brock's breath caught in his throat. He leaned closer, heart hammering in his chest. "What are you saying?" Lizzie's voice came from inside the room, breathier than usual. Brock had heard that tone before; she used it when she was trying not to freak out.

Brock was then forced to listen to the bastard pour out his heart to her, tell her how she was so _beautiful,_ so _fiery_, so much like his _darling_ Rose. Jack then proceeded to tell her what an awful guy Brock was, and how Brock had basically threatened him. Brock's heart broke more every second, and when Lizzie didn't tell Jack off or even defend Brock, he thought he just might shatter into a million heartbroken pieces.

Brock stormed away from the lab without a backward glance. So what if Lizzie went with Jack? If she chose a hundred-year old man who jumped from rich women to their great-granddaughters over Brock, then her and Jack deserved each other.

He stumbled back through the building, knocking into people and desks blindly. "Hey, where are you going, Brock?" Josh stepped into his path, brow furrowed.

"Leave me alone, Josh!" Brock snarled, roughly shoving him out of the way. Josh's shocked, slightly hurt expression didn't register on him. He continued making his way out of the building, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.

The cold February air slapped at his face as he ran past the parking lot, across the road, and towards the harbor. He didn't stop until he had reached the edge of the water. Dropping to his knees, he let out a yell of fury and pounded his fists on the ground.

Taking deep, ragged breaths, he gazed across the vast ocean, as if he could see Europe on the other side if he looked hard enough. Then, after checking that no one was around, he reached into his pocket and removed an engagement ring with a shiny square 2-karat diamond in the middle.

Brock had been madly in love with Lizzie, and a few weeks before, he had realized that she was the woman that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. In a rush of enthusiasm, he had gone to Jared and bought the prettiest ring he could afford. Of course, he hadn't even thought about when he would propose-it might have been another couple months, or even a year or two.

Brock slowly popped the case shut, enclosing the ring in a box of satin and velvet. In one swift movement, he jumped to his feet, wound up like a baseball pitcher, and, with a yell of anguish, threw the little box as far as he could out into the harbor.

Tears spilled out of his eyes and down his cheeks as the case flew down towards the sparkling blue water, finally landing with a little _splash_ about 50 feet out. In his mind's eye, he could see it sinking to the bottom, the seawater staining the velvet. He pictured it finally coming to rest in a patch of mud, the ring inside still dry, perfectly preserved on a bed of satin.

In a daze, he staggered to the nearest bar, a shabby little place that served stale beer and had stuffing coming out of the chair cushions.

"Give me three of the dirtiest vodka martinis you can mix," he told the bartender dejectedly. "And that's just the start."

The bartender grinned. "Broken heart, sir?" he asked with a Spanish accent.

Brock buried his head in his hands. "You could say that," he groaned, chugging the first martini.

Thus began the night's downward spiral of drinking himself into oblivion.


	9. A terrible feud

**Hey guys! I'm really sorry that I haven't updated in a while, but volleyball's been starting up again and I've been busy! To make up for it, I wrote the longest chapter yet! Thank you all for voting on the poll; it was very helpful in making the final decision! We have a very clear winner! :) This story will start to wrap up in a chapter or two, so don't forget to review! Thanks, and enjoy! :)**

Lizzie slammed the door to their apartment, walked into the kitchen, poured herself some bourbon, and sat down to think.

All this time, she had been trying to convince herself that she and Jack's feelings were the brother-sister type, but that just wasn't true. Still, she couldn't _believe_ that Jack had told her he loved her already! They had known each other for _three days_, for crying out loud!

Then again, that was about the same amount of time that it had taken him to confess his love to Rose on Titanic. Maybe he was just a fast-paced kind of guy.

Lizzie didn't know what to do. She had thought that she loved Brock, but then Jack had come along and changed her perception of everything. Besides, if Brock had truly said those awful things to Jack, then he definitely wasn't the guy for her.

If she chose Brock, the money-obsessed yet down-to-earth guy, then she would have a nice, comfortable life. There was nothing wrong with that; it actually sounded quite nice. However, if she chose Jack, the wild, free spirited one, then she would live a life full of passion and risk-taking.

The latter certainly sounded more fun and appealing...but wasn't it better to be safe than sorry?

_I need to talk to Brock_, she decided. She needed to find out if he had really said those terrible things to Jack, and see if he was ready to apologize for how he had behaved the past couple of days. If he was as rude as he had been, then her decision was clear. However, if he acted truly sorry, then she would have some thinking to do.

She picked up her phone, but before she could dial Brock's number, her phone rang. It was none other than Brock himself.

"Hey," she said before Brock could say anything. "Listen, we need to talk. Where are you?"

"Hello, miss." It wasn't Brock's voice on the other end, but a man with a Spanish accent.

"Um, hi?" Lizzie said carefully. "Who are you?"

"My name is Eduardo. I am the bartender at McFletcher's Bar in west Brooklyn. A man named Brock Lovett, according to his license plate, just passed out from drinking too much. I dialed speed dial on his phone and you answered. I'm sorry, but could you please come and get him? He's attracting too much attention."

Lizzie couldn't believe her ears. Brock was passed out drunk? It was only 2 o'clock in the afternoon! Besides, Brock _never_ got drunk. In all the years she had known him, she had never seen him drink more than two or three beers at a party, tops, and he practically never did any shots.

What was happening to the man that she thought she knew so well?

"I'll be right there," she told Eduardo exasperatedly.

She looked up the directions to McFletcher's Bar on Google Maps, then headed over in her car. Traffic was terrible, and she would usually have taken the subway, but somehow thought that carting an unconscious man on and off the subway cars might be slightly difficult.

After what seemed like hours, Lizzie arrived at the bar. It was a run-down little place, and she couldn't believe that Brock would ever bring himself here. They were more of the type to hit the hip new bars and clubs that always popped up all over the city. McFletcher's looked like it had been here since New York City was established.

Brock was propped up on a stool, out cold, bottles and glasses surrounding him. Eduardo had been right: Brock was indeed getting a lot of strange looks from people. Lizzie quickly checked to make sure he still had his wallet and cell phone, then allowed Eduardo to load Brock into the tiny backseat of her car.

She thanked him for all his help and gave him a 5-dollar bill. "Thanks, miss," he said appreciatively. "So are you his sister?"

"Nope, his girlfriend," Lizzie told him, getting into the front seat.

Eduardo looked surprised. "Oh...okay then."

She furrowed her brow. "What, is there a problem with that?"

"No miss, not at all...it's just that before Mr. Lovett passed out, he told me that he was drinking so much because of a broken heart." Eduardo gave her one more puzzled look, then walked back into the bar.

Lizzie sat still for a moment, shocked. She turned to look at Brock, sleeping peacefully in the backseat. His face looked more relaxed than it had been in days, though it felt like years. Why would Brock say his heart was broken? It wasn't like they had broken up...did he think they had?

_No_, Lizzie told herself firmly. _No, Eduardo must have just misunderstood what Brock said, that's all._

She drove back to their apartment building, lost in thought, the only sound being Brock's occasional grunt from the backseat. After much difficulty, she was able to get him into their apartment and tucked into bed.

...

Several hours later, Brock was still out cold. To pass the time, Lizzie had cooked a magnificent dinner of roast beef, fruit salad, corn on the cob, garlic bread, and banana pudding for desert. She thought that they could sit down and have a nice, civil talk.

The table was set for two, as there had been no sign of Jack since Lizzie had rejected him. A twinge of guilt bloomed in her stomach when she thought about it, but she quickly brushed it away. She had a boyfriend, and Jack had known it too.

Suddenly, Brock appeared in their bedroom doorway. His t-shirt was stained, his hair mussed, and the circles under his eyes dark.

"About time you woke up, sleepyhead!" Lizzie said, trying to keep her tone light. "Here, I made you a Bloody Mar-"

"YOU!" Brock roared suddenly. Lizzie jumped about a foot in the air and dropped the Bloody Mary that she had made for his hangover. The glass shattered on the polished hardwood floors and the red liquid spilled all over, looking like blood.

"Brock, what...?" she cried.

He advanced on her, pointing a finger accusingly. It was clear he was still half-drunk, for his eyes were slightly unfocused. "I..._loved_...you," he slurred. "I _loved_ you and you CHEATED on me, with the frozen guy!"

His voice had steadily increased, and at the last words, his face contorted with anger and he knocked over the roast beef that Lizzie had worked hard to make perfect.

"Brock, calm down!" Lizzie screamed. "What the hell are you doing?! I never cheated on you with anyone, ever, especially not Jack!"

"That's just a blatant lie," Brock hissed, kicking the table. "And to think I was going to marry you! I even bought you a fucking ring!" He picked up the banana pudding and slammed it to the floor. His eyes were wild and deranged, shifting all over the place. "Then I come down to the office to apologize for my _unnecessary behavior_, and I hear you and that pretty-boy talking about how much you love each other!"

Lizzie stood stunned for a second. Brock was going to propose to her? Then she shook her head. She could think about that later; for now, she needed to stop this reckless, drunk Brock from trashing the place.

"Brock, you need to listen to me," she pleaded, taking his wrists in an attempt to stop him from destroying anything else. "Jack said that he loved me, not the other way around, okay? I rejected him. I love _you_, Brock, and I would never cheat on you!"

Brock stared at Lizzie's hands around his wrist for a long time. Then, so quietly that she could barely hear it, he muttered, "Get out."

She stared at him, shocked, thinking she must have misheard. "Wait, _what_?"

He looked up at her, and suddenly didn't seem so drunk anymore. His eyes were full of a steely anger that she wasn't used to. "You heard me," he said evenly. "This is my apartment. _You_ moved in with _me_. My name's on the lease, not yours. Get out."

Lizzie's eyes filled with disbelieving tears. "Brock, can...can we talk about this, please?" she squeaked, trying to stop her throat from closing up.

"No. I want you out." He suddenly reached out and smacked over a vase of flowers. "OUT! GET OUT!"

Frightened, she ran from the room, horrified tears pouring in torrents down her pale cheeks. Grabbing her small, ratty suitcase from their bedroom closet, she stuffed some clothes and toiletries into it, then ran for the door.

"I'll get the rest of my things later," she told him over her shoulder as she yanked the door open, working with all her might to not let her voice betray how thickly the tears were flowing down her cheeks. He was silent, his back to her.

Lizzie ran to the nearest subway station, the wind blowing her tears backward into her hair. She boarded a subway without even looking where it was going and sat down, breathing hard. People shot her strange looks, and she couldn't blame them: with her small suitcase, tear-streaked face, and wild eyes, she probably looked like she had escaped from an insane asylum.

In less than half an hour, she had lost both her home and the man she thought she loved. How could anything get worse from here?

Suddenly, a thought flashed through her mind. _Jack._ He might go back to their apartment to try to find her and find the drunk, dangerous, crazed version of Brock instead. In Brock's current state of mind, who knew what he would do to Jack?

She had to find him.


	10. A Final Decision

**Hey, guys! I know, I know, I haven't updated in over a month. With school starting, volleyball literally every day, and a ton of homework, I really hadn't thought about it at all! I made this chapter extra long to try to make up for it. This is the final chapter! All the suspense is over! Well, there's still the epilogue and author's note left, but still. ANYWAY, don't forget to review! Thanks, and enjoy! :)**

Jack wandered the streets of New York, wondering where he could have gone wrong. What about his confessions of love were so unappealing? Both Rose and Lizzie had fled when he told them how he felt.

_Except Rose came back for you_, said a meddlesome voice in his head. _But there's no sign of Lizzie, now is there?_

It had only been a few hours since he had last seen her, yet he missed her already. Her perfect green eyes, her long blond curls, her demanding yet sweet personality...he crumpled onto a bench in Central Park, hating the world.

Yet he couldn't seem to get her out of his mind. She had shown him the entire city just a few days ago, so everywhere he went, he remembered going with her. She had looked relaxed and happier that day then she had ever looked with Brock..._why_ had she chosen such a heartless man over Jack?

_That's it, Jack. _He told himself firmly. _You're leaving. You can't stay here and wallow in self-pity. You're going to go back to their apartment, get your stuff, and take the next train out of here._ At this point, he didn't care where it took him, as long as it was a one-way ticket.

Jack slowly began the long trek back to their apartment. He got a few inquiring looks on the way, as if people were trying to figure out where they had seen him before. "Mommy, mommy, it's the frozen man!" one kid shrieked excitedly, pointing a fat finger. A few people looked up in interest, but Jack merely responded, "No hablo Ingles. Que pasa?" They looked away in disappointment, continuing to walk in the haughty-yet-purposeful way that only New Yorkers could pull off.

Eventually, Jack reached Brock and Lizzie's apartment. He wondered bitterly if they would be getting married anytime soon, and just hoped that Brock didn't become physically abusive like Cal had been. Not even pausing to think about what he would do if they were home, he reached for the door handle.

"Jack!" an anguished cry echoed down the hall. He looked up to see none other than Lizzie flying at him, lugging a ratty suitcase over her shoulder, her face streaked with tears.

"What..?" he started to ask, but before he could complete the question, she leapt into his arms and he was muffled by her hair.

"Oh Jack, I'm so sorry about before! I was out of my mind, not picking you right away, Brock got drunk and went insane, he wrecked the apartment and I just grabbed some of my things and ran, but then I realized you might come back here and I had to warn you-" she paused for breath and looked up into his eyes, panting.

"I ran all the way back here to find you, I didn't want Brock to hurt you...Jack, let's just run away! Right now! It doesn't matter where we go, let's just get away from all the pesky reporters, the publicity, everything! That is, if you...if you still want me," she ended uncertainly, looking down at her feet.

Jack thought about how she had broken his heart and run back to Brock, causing him endless hours of anguish...But then he thought about how she had shielded him from the reporters pesky questions and prying eyes, how she had stuck up for him when no one else had, how she had run all the way back here to protect him from Brock, and how he had loved her since the minute he saw her.

"I just have one question," he said slowly. Lizzie waited apprehensively. "What's the fastest way to the train station?"

Her face broke into a smile. He started chuckling, and suddenly they were both laughing their heads off. "C'mon," Lizzie choked, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes and grabbing his hand. "Let's go!"

Brock's POV

Brock woke up with his cheek pressed against the cold hardwood floor. His head ached terribly, and all his limbs felt like jelly. "Jesus, I hate hangovers," he mumbled, getting up to look for an aspirin.

Suddenly, he noticed his surroundings, and stopped dead, mouth agape. It looked as though a tornado had swept through their kitchen. Dishes of food were smashed on the floor, the kitchen table was lying on it's side, and a Bloody Mary was spilled everywhere, remnants of it slowly dripping from a shattered crystal glass. The scariest part of all of it, however, was that Brock had no recollection of this whatsoever.

"Lizzie?" he called, trying to stop his voice from quivering. "Babe? You here?" He realized that no one was here apart from him and the mangled remains of their dinner.

_Think, Brock, think!_ he commanded, sitting down and rubbing his face vigorously with his hands. Then, as though he had been hit by a tidal wave, the events of the past twenty-four hours rushed over him.

Arguing with Lizzie, yelling at Jack, hearing Jack confess his love, getting drunk, and...with horror, he realized who had demolished the kitchen and drove Lizzie out of the house.

"What have you done, Brock?" he whispered. Hastily pulling out his phone, he checked the time. 7:18. He felt a moment's relief...until he saw the two letters next to the numbers. AM. It was 7:18 in the morning. He had been passed out the entire night.

Brock dashed to the door and yanked it open, preparing to scour the entire city for Lizzie, not caring that his clothes were rumpled and dirty or that he smelled like alcohol. Before he could figure out where to go, however, he noticed a note pinned to the door. Noticing Lizzie's handwriting, he eagerly ripped it off and held it close to his face.

_Dear Brock, _

_I'm so sorry that things didn't work out for us. I really did love you, you know. But things hadn't felt right between us since Jack showed up, and last night's episode was just a little too much. _

_Jack and I have boarded a 10:00pm train. If the reporters ask (I know you want to know what to say to them, seeing as publicity is all you care about), just say that we eloped and are currently traveling the world, and would appreciate it if they respected our privacy. Also, please tell the team of oceanologists that I am resigning. _

_I know you were drunk last night and didn't mean any of it, and there are no hard feelings, I promise. But next time you want to marry a girl, try to care about her a little more, and fame and fortune a little less. Please don't try to find us. Again, no hard feelings, and I wish you the best of luck in life. Good-bye. _

_Love, Elizabeth_

Tears dripped steadily onto the paper that was shaking in Brock's hands. There was no possible way to find them now. She was really gone. His eyes roved over the paper once again. _Love, Elizabeth._ She only used her full name with acquaintances.

In a daze, he dressed and got ready for work, as if sticking to his normal schedule might somehow make her reappear. He took the subway even though it was a longer ride, because he couldn't stand to see the empty space in the parking garage where her car had been.

"Morning, Brock!" Josh said brightly as Brock walked into the hustle and bustle of the work room. "You and Lizzie got things all worked out about Jack's interview, then?"

At this, the mention of such a trivial little interview that had ultimately led to their fight and the breakup, Brock couldn't hold it in anymore: he burst into tears. In order to avoid the stares, he retreated to his office and crumpled to the floor behind his desk, knocking the picture of him and Lizzie off of the wall.

There was a tentative knock at the door. "Brock?" Josh's apprehensive voice came from around the corner. "Uh, is something wrong?"

Brock took a deep breath, stood up, and glared at Joshua with all the bravado that he could muster. "Lizzie left, that's what's wrong. She eloped with the damn frozen man. They took a train out of here and they're never coming back." He could no longer keep his composure, and burst into noisy sobs again, hunching over his desk.

"Oh, man," Josh looked stunned. "This...this is huge. What will the reporters-"

"I DON'T CARE WHAT THE REPORTERS WILL SAY, JOSH!" Brock roared. "This is my life we're talking about here!"

Josh was quiet for a minute. "Well...maybe you should take some time off." Brock looked up at him skeptically. "No, I'm serious! You've worked at the same place everyday for way too long. You're a workaholic, buddy! Go see the world, have some fun, and when you're done with that, find a woman who appreciates you and settle down. Lizzie's probably very happy right now, and you deserve to be, too."

Brock gave him a watery smile. "That's probably the smartest stuff you've ever said, Josh." He thought for a minute. "Alright, I'll do it! I'm resigning officially. I deserve to have some fun."

He walked out of the office without a backward glance, pausing only in the main part of the building. People were poring over a diagram of a ship. He continued on his way, but continued to look back at the ship until he exited the building. It was the ship where all of this had started, nearly a century before, and it was in a research lab dedicated to the ship where everything ended.

The Titanic.

**Don't worry, there's an epilogue. I wouldn't just leave it hanging like that! The epilogue and author's note will be up sometime within the next week! I would do it tomorrow, but I have a volleyball game that's an hour away, so I doubt I'll have time. Thanks for sticking with me till the end, guys! And don't forget to review, as it's one of your last opportunities!**


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue

True to their word, Jack and Lizzie boarded the 10:00pm train, not caring where it was going. They were halfway to Pennsylvania before they realized that they wanted to get out of America for a while. They promptly got off at the next stop, bought two tickets for a flight to England, and were overseas by the next morning.

Jack and Lizzie traveled Europe for a while, Lizzie showing him all the new European inventions and Jack reminiscing about how all the monuments and churches were the same as they had been when he traveled Europe in 1912. However, as both of them had been to Europe already (Lizzie had gone on vacation there one summer, and Jack of course had traveled it before he boarded Titanic), they only stayed there for a year or two. After that, they decided to venture to less common travel spots, such as the snowy mountains of Russia, the fierce jungles of South America, and the tiny towns in Africa where there was no technology.

Reporters followed them constantly at first, but eventually got tired of chasing them down and moved on to other topics. After around ten years of travel, they returned back to the United States, where "the frozen man" was little more than a myth. In time, they ended up settling down in Santa Monica of all places. It was a nice change of scenery for both of them, and a comfortable little town. Jack opened an art museum featuring his work and the work of other little-known street artists, while Lizzie published several best-selling books on Rose's, Jack's, and her own experiences with Titanic. They had two beautiful children: a girl with blue-green eyes and sleek blond hair named Jocelyn, and a boy with icy blue eyes and a mop of curly blond hair named Dillon.

Brock, meanwhile, had followed Joshua's advice: he quit his job and traveled the world. He didn't have to worry about expenses because, though not many people knew it, his job had gotten him very rich over the years. Unlike Jack and Lizzie, he stuck to traveling in Europe, and eventually met a dark-haired Italian beauty with a sweet personality named Marietta while traveling in Rome. She helped him forget all about Lizzie, and he brought her back to America and married her.

As Brock was tired of the Atlantic Ocean and aching for a change of scenery, he and Marietta built their home in Venice Beach, California, about 20 minutes away from Santa Monica. Marietta died young from cancer, but not before she had given birth to a baby boy with thick dark hair and light brown eyes, christened John.

Jack Dawson died at the age of 61, having lived a good, full life. Both Jocelyn and Dillon were fully grown by then, and had both moved away to pursue their careers. Brock's son John moved away as well. Lizzie and Brock continued to live on, growing old less than twenty minutes away from each other, unknowing of each other's presence.

...

Brock Lovett got in line behind an elderly woman at a grocery store. His back was stooped from old age, his arms laden with Quaker's Oatmeal formula and a pack of golf balls that he was planning to use with his buddies that afternoon.

"Will that be all you're buying, Miss Elizabeth?" the cashier's voice rang out. Brock didn't pay much attention, lost in thought of when his son's next visit would be.

"Yes, pancake mix is all I need for now," the elderly woman in front of him responded. "I always make pancakes on Fridays, you see. I have ever since I was a little girl."

Something stirred inside Brock as the cashier mumbled a reply. _Pancakes on Fridays..._ Several memories popped up in the forefront of his mind. A laughing woman with blond hair and green eyes, flipping a pancake onto his plate...himself noticing that the frying pan was empty even though she always made pancakes on Fridays and realizing that something was very wrong, something that had to do with a guest staying at their house...

The memory vanished as quickly as it appeared. Who had that girl been? At that moment, the elderly woman turned to look at him, her blue-green eyes exactly the same shade as the eyes of the young twenty-something girl of his memory. She opened her mouth as if to say something, looking as though she recognized him as well...

Then the cashier called, "Next!" Whatever had been flickering behind the woman's eyes vanished, and she walked out of the store, a cane supporting her, not looking back. Brock gave himself a little shake, and gave his things to the cashier, his thoughts turned once more on golf and visiting his son.

...

...

**Author's Note**

**Another story done! I just wanted to say, I'm sorry for the long pauses between chapters. I just haven't been focused on Fanfiction lately, but I promise that I'll be 100% committed to my next story!**

**I want to thank all the people that reviewed this story, especially YourBestFriendK, ArtemisKey, Penguinsxxx, and EternalSerenityGallagherGirl ! Those four reviewed my story the most, but I really do appreciate everyone else that reviewed too!**

**I think I'm going to write a Pretty Little Liars books story next, but don't worry, I'm planning another Titanic one in the back of my mind already! :) Visit my profile page to see what I'm planning for upcoming stories.**

**Just wanted to let you all know, I'm a beta reader, so if you need someone to help you with any aspect of your stories, I'm available! **

**Yep, that's about it. Thanks guys :)**

**-Volleyballgirl122**


End file.
